The Lexington Noir Project
by LunaStellaCat
Summary: Lyall Lupin gets a helping hand. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. Any and all reviews would be appreciated.


Lyall liked his marriage, so he discussed things over with his wife. His mother once gave him a bit of advice she'd gotten from a wise (albeit divorced) old homeless man. A happy wife makes a happy life. Maybe the man was a widow who'd gotten down on his luck. Lyall couldn't recall. He remembered this line whenever he went solo and waited to tell Hope later. It never ended well that way.

He considered himself a smart man. At thirty, he'd advanced in his career; eight years later he stayed there. All the same, people were smart within safety of their niches. The man homeschooled his son. Remus knew how to read and write. Although he might not understand the words or the meaning behind them, the kid could read through stuff way past his level because he said and struggled with the words. Sure, Lyall knew just about anything you could ask him about apparitions, or Boggarts, or even the stories behind dead people. Sometimes, he even found encounters strange. The poltergeist in the London sewer system gave him pause.

But he needed help. After three years of taking care of his son, Lyall was getting nowhere fast. On the third anniversary of his son's attack, Lyall took him off to London in the middle of the night. Hope, tired from a long day at work, slept in the bedroom. Lyall had secretly planned this out for days, really, and the unexpected problems almost had him backing out. When they appeared in London, he took his sleepy son by the hand and walked fast down the street.

"Come on, come on," he said, checking his watch every few minutes for for reason.

It was a nervous tick. They weren't late. In fact, Lyall had sent his son to bed early after punishing him for not eating his vegetables. Lyall had made a show of it for Hope's sake. Shortly after, whilst his wife had busied herself with the dishes, he went back in Remus's room and told him the two of them were going out for this father son thing. As long as Remus wouldn't tell his mother, Lyall promised to get him something on the way home. As he approached the hospital, it dawned on Lyall that he had absolutely nothing up his sleeve.

As visiting hours had ended a long time ago, they went through the emergency entrance. The Welcome Witch, an overweight, bespectacled redhead, only worked until seven or something and everything else got directed to emergency. The pack was packed. When Remus couldn't keep his eyes off a woman who had accidentally transfigured her head into something like a teapot, Lyall asked him to please stop staring. The woman's nose whistled and steam shot out of her ears.

"It's rude." Lyall remained standing and gestured for Remus to take the only available seat between a hag and a witch. When the boy sat down, Lyall fixed his trainers; they were on the wrong feet. How had Remus not felt that the way here? He'd been half asleep until they had arrived on a nearby street corner by Side-Along Apparition.

The witch asked Remus about the animated character on his bright red jumper. What sensible kid would walk away advertising a mouse wearing red trousers and yellow shoes? Remus, not bothered by this comment in the least, pushed up the sleeve of his jumper and showed her a matching wristwatch. "Mickey Mouse."

"His mother likes it," said Lyall, searching the crowd and checking his own watch.

It was five past. Thinking perhaps the Healer they were meeting got caught up, he tried to relax. This whole thing was fraught with consequences. What if this fellow had dragged them here under false pretenses? Not wanting to risk an owl being intercepted, Lyall had not sent any letters. He feared the consequences of his son's secret getting out. He worked for the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, and as money was always tight, he desperately needed his job. What if this man had invited them here to force Lyall to add his boy's name to the Werewolf Registry? At half past, he imagined Remus being taken away from him.

"Get up, Remus. We're going home." Lyall turned to leave.

Remus, wide awake now, got interested in a couple with a conjoined body. Thinking he never wanted to be that close to his wife or significant other, Lyall guessed this was the result of a badly performed curse or jinx.

"That's neat," said Remus, tugging at the sleeve of his father's robes and pointing them out. Lyall reached out and lowered his outstretched hand without comment. "Sorry."

Lyall stopped. A Healer, a tall, thin man standing behind a bustling admissions desk, beckoned to him with his finger. He was young, maybe in his early twenties. Healer Smethwyck had blonde hair and hazel eyes. It was a little strange to not see this man in casual Muggle clothing. Like the other Healers, Healer Smethwyck wore lime-green robes with a bone on wand on the chest. If this was a trap, Lyall despised him for the elaborate setup. He took Remus's hand and they approached the admissions desk.

"I've got these," said Healer Smethwyck nonchalantly as he helped himself to a blank clipboard. He sounded beyond bored. As they started upstairs to go up to the First Floor, he clapped Remus on the shoulder. He'd given Lyall the Mickey Mouse attire the last time they met at the Leaky Cauldron for a beer and a chat. "Mickey Mouse, my man. Or my mouse."

"Thanks," said Remus proudly. "My mum gave it to me."

"No, she didn't," said Lyall, bringing up the rear. He followed them into a private room. Healer Smethwyck, after checking to make sure the coast was clear, locked the door with a tap of his wand. Remus watched Healer Smethwyck a little apprehensively.

Healer Smethwyck tapped his hand on the examination table in the centre of the room. The paper creaked at his touch. He placed his clipboard on an animated old-fashioned swivel chair. The thing darted around the room. For the late hour, he acted warm and friendly. Lyall didn't know whether he was coming or going until Healer Smethwyck mentioned he'd just completed his paperwork for the day.

"Do you always have this much energy?" Lyall sat in one of the plastic chairs by the wall. There was an animated diagram on the wall illustrating how to properly dress a wound. As it stayed on a constant replay, Lyall quickly lost interest.

"Yeah, no," said Healer Smethwyck. He lifted Remus onto the examination table. As the chair ambled by, he picked up his chart. "Hello, Remus. I'm Healer Smethwyck."

Remus kicked his trainers against the metal frame. He shot a furtive look at his father because he knew he wasn't supposed to speak with strangers. Remus was a clever kid, but he was still just a boy. He reminded Lyall a little of himself, actually. It would be easy for the werewolf secret to get out there. Lyall nodded, saying it was okay, so Remus grinned at the Healer. "I'm Remus."

" I know. Your full name is Remus John Lupin. Your birthday is March 10, 1960. You don't like butter beans, and who can blame you there? Wanna know how I know this stuff? Oh, and you like scrambled eggs and ketchup. That's weird." Hippocrates Smethwyck laughed when Remus called him weird. Lyall frowned at him, not impressed. Remus guessed the Healer was a Seer. Healer Smethwyck pointed at Lyall. "I've been talking with your dad."

"He gave you the Mickey Mouse stuff," explained Lyall

"Thanks." Remus smiled at him.

"Not a problem," said Healer Smethwyck. He patted Remus on the knee and lowered his voice after casting a Silencing Charm. "What else do I know, Remus?"

Remus shook his head, suddenly interested in his red trainers. "Not allowed to tell anyone."

"Okay. You know what's special about this watch?" Healer Smethwyck lifted Renus's jumper sleeve gingerly, no doubt noticing the cuts and bruises from the last transformation a week ago. In a Muggle hospital, maybe even here, Lyall just knew he'd be locked up for child abuse. Healer Smethwyck tapped the watch face sharply with his wand and smiled when Mickey Mouse started dancing. Remus laughed. "When Mickey calls a time out, you get to say whatever you want. We're all friends here."

Remus's next words hurt Lyall deeply. "I don't have friends."

"You do now, mate," said Healer Smethwyck, pulling up the swivel chair and checking out Remus's hands before he set the clipboard on the examination table. He worked quickly, checking this and that. He noted stuff on his clipboard, taking his time with this appointment. After noting Remus's reflexes, be offered him his hands, fingers locked together. "Squeeze."

Remus followed his instructions.

"Ouch, Remus, these are my money makers." Healer Smethwyck acted like he was hurt for Remus's benefit. He flipped a page on his clipboard. They were getting down to the real reason Lyall had travelled here in the dead of night. Healer Smethwyck, getting comfortable and telling them to call him Hippocrates, questioned Remus about his transformations. Lyall answered when needed. "Are you tied up?"

"I lock him inside a room. Of course, the second these words played back in Lyall's mind, he felt awful. It certainly sounded like child abuse.

Hippocrates made a note and bandaged the cuts on Remus's arm before he mended a deep cut on his shoulder Lyall had missed. "How're your legs?"

"Good. Can I write you?" Remus lost interest in the medical spiel. "Since we're friends?"

Lyall stopped him right there. A Healer couldn't be a friend. This was a busy man with a hectic timetable, and he didn't need to be bothered about sone boy and his books or his Gobstones. Whilst the appointment went well, Lyall expected to be turned away. He had nothing to offer this fellow. He barely had enough gold to make rent this month. When he started to say something to Remus, Hippocrates waved his wand and a red pastry box appeared next to Remus. The Healer waved down Lyall, sure he was going to protest.

"For your birthday. I know it's a little early, but I'm not going to see you for a while. Let's try every three months for now?" Hippocrates glanced it Lyall to okay this. Lyall, getting to his feet, shrugged. He didn't know what was a good suggestion. Hippocrates something about a case study, but this project had just started, and the Healer pretty much made it up as he went. Remus was the first candidate.

The aim of the case study was to ease life for werewolves. Remus could and would rely on his father and mother for now, but werewolves didn't have things like steady careers and mortgage payments. Since his son has gotten bitten, Lyall had tried to learn anything he could about werewolves. He got his stuff from books. Remus and others like him, according to Hippocrates Smethwyck, could function normally within society with a helping hand. His pet project, the Lexington Noir Project, fought for stable living conditions and networking for stable work for those werewolves who wanted to better themselves within the wizarding community. The project had nobody backing it at present but one person. The idea had been drafted on a napkin at the Leaky Cauldron some three weeks prior.

There was a layered chocolate cake in the box. After helping Remus off the examination table, Hippocrates handed Lyall the box.

"You don't have to do any of this," whispered Lyall, taken aback by his kindness.

Hippocrates, remembering the wrist watch when they reached the door, tapped it and time started again because the watch wound itself to the correct time of day. Hippocrates squeezed Remus's shoulder, telling him to send owl anytime. He also asked to meet Hope because she needed to be in on this. When Hippocrates opened the door, saying goodnight and handing Remus a rucksack filled of stuff for minor injures, Lyall turned to thank him. He settled for a parting wave because his voice caught in his throat.

It took Lyall almost a good ten years to realize Healer Hippocrates Smethwyck handed him the opportunity of a lifetime. As time passed, the Healer became a close friend of the family. Lyall, like Remus, had to learn what it was like to have friends. Even though they moved houze and uprooted the family often, Hippocrates found them sooner or later. Lyall had no idea when the man had time for a personal life because be worked a ninety hour work week on top of the project.

When Remus got an opportunity to go to school, Lyall learned later that it wasn't just because of Professor Dumbledore. Apparently, as Hippocrates's friend Poppy Promfrey told it, Hippocrates had written Albus Dumbledore a glowing letter of recommendation about Remus. This thing, though Lyall had never read it, was a thing of beauty. Hippocrates sent three of them. As it turned out, Dumbledore wasn't ignoring him; he was simply making preparations. As Lyall sat in Professor Dumbledore's office in Remus's fifth year, he wanted to knock his son back into last Thursday. When he'd received an owl about some prank by the Whoomping Willow, Lyall had contacted Hippocrates at once, and they travelled to Hogwarts Castle together slowly after dawn.

"Apologize to me one more time," said Lyall, threatening Remus as he brandished his wand. He glared at the other three boys, Remus's friends. Peter, the tagalong, looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. The injured boy was in the hospital wing. Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk with a serene expression on his face.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," said Remus, pale and exhausted. "Things got out of hand."

"He shouldn't have even been there," said Sirius, cool and relaxed. Bedside him, James Potter snickered.

"You shouldn't have been there " hissed Hippocrates, his nostrils flaring. He stopped pacing and towered over the boys. He jabbed a finger in James Potter's chest before he turned that finger on Remus. "Funny, is it? Your friend over there could have been charged with murder on school grounds. You think their lenient on werewolves in prison?"

"He's not an adult," said James, unfazed. Although the attack on Serverus Snape had scared him and the other boys, he had already dismissed it as harmless. "Nobody got hurt."

Lyall laughed mirthlessly. After years of hiding and disguising the truth, had it all boiled down to a good laugh? How did these boys even know Remus was what he was? Lyall had lost everyone in his family over this because they had tired of his lies and excuses. When Sirius muttered under his breath, Hippocrates actually got up and whacked him around the head.

"You were prefect," said Lyall, rounding on his son. He raised his voice when Remus studied the portraits of headmasters and headmistresses in the office. "You were prefect last year! What the hell is this?"

Remus sounded barely audible. "I know."

"Oh! You know..." Lyall's tone leaked with sarcasm. He pounded his fist on his armchair. "You realize you are sixteen? They can and probably should charge you as an adult, boy. Your mother's at some Muggle hospital getting treatment ... and I can barely make ends meet, But you know everything, Remus Lupin!"

Remus flinched.

"You wanna be an adult? You're an adult!" Hippocrates nodded at Remus. He hadn't even cleared anything with Lyall at this point, but Lyall didn't care. "It's not only you. How many times do I have to tell you that, Remus? It's me. It's your parents, Madam Promfrey, Professor Dumbledore ...what about my study? You want be a grown man? Fine! You are volunteering at St. Mungo's this summer. You'll work six days a week and struggle through every second shift till you drop. Congratulations."

"Hippocrates," said Remus, appealing to the Healer as Hippocrates stormed out. His plea fell to deaf ears. Professor Dumbledore let the other boys go, but Remus sat there, stock still. "I didn't even do anything, Dad,"

"Maybe you should have, Remus," said Lyall. letting go of his anger. He pointed at the closed door. "That man has kept us off the streets. We get allotments from this case study, do you get that? There are nights I don't eat."

"Dad," said Remus, calling him out for the over exaggeration.

"You don't know!" Lyall hid everything from Remus, although it was obvious they lived below the poverty line. He, too, got to his feet. Remus got new school robes every year because Lyall not only worked at the Ministry. He worked as a apparition investigator on the side. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "You start at the hospital the day after school gets out. Your days off will be the days when the cycle hits. You will find a way to get to and from London. Are we agreed?"

Remus nodded. He left the headmaster's office after he picked up his bag. He didn't look at either his father or Professor Dumbledore.

His seventh year, partially due to the fact that Hippocrates worked him to the bone that summer, passed without incident. Remus left school a changed man.,Hippocrates had taught him the wealth behind a hard day's work. On his thirtieth-sixth birthday, Remus lived with his mother-in-law, something he tried no to dwell on, and worked two dead end jobs at a couple Muggle restaurants. Lyall knew he hated one and tolerated the other. At his age, working as both a dishwasher and a server, Remus had committed himself to hard work. Lyall didn't even recognize the kid anymore. His kid had a kid on the way.

He'd had to go through Remus's wife, Dora, to track him down. They were at war, so steady work was hard to come by anyway. As Lyall sat at the bar nursing a drink, he listened to stories of how his son kept things going in the kitchen. Remus had always liked to keep his hannds busy, so this compliment came as no surprise to Lyall. Remus jumped stations; he went where he was needed. Remus, leaning on the swinging kitchen door, listened as someone shouted something at him. After wiping his hands on his apron, he picked up two heavy crates for the barmaid.

"Stout and whatever this is," said Remus, sliding into the bar as the barmaid handled the first after work wave of patrons. He stocked inventory for her. When he opened the other box, he said, laughing a little, "and I see why Joel calls this estrogen surge. I get it now. Funny."

"Funny, old man," said the barmaid, flipping glasses onto her polished surface,

"Oh, but it is." Remus found his server's booklet in his apron and bowed out of her station after he broke down the crates. "You'll understand that later on tonight, Laura."

"Hey! Hey, old man, slow down." The barmaid cupped her hand over her mouth and Remus weaved through tables. Remus stopped, holding his booklet aloft. The barmaid pointed at Lyall. "He's yours?"

Remus did a double take, taken by surprise.

"I'm his father," said Lyall quietly. The barmaid, puzzled, stole a second glance. Remus had aged faster than Lyall, so the two of them could've easily passed as cousins or something.

"He's awesome. New Year's Eve? I left my tips in the till." The barmaid slapped Remus on the arm as he took a barstool. "This bloke? Not only made sure I got home, but he made sure I didn't get there empty handed."

"It was nothing. This is my father, Lyall. Dad, Laura. Oh, yes, I forgot." Remus took out a roll of bills, unstuck one of them, for it was pay day, Lyall guessed. Remus uncapped one of his pens and wrote a number, a series of numbers, on the bill before he slid it back towards her. "This is Michael Gallagher. The young man you met last night? He asked me to pass this along. He likes food."

The barmaid laughed. "Really? That's your pick up line?"

"Oh, he owed you that," said Remus, smiling when she pocketed the money. He started saying something, got caught up in a laugh, and shared it with her. "I'm married, so I don't have to worry about that anymore. I've never actually done that before."

"Picked up a girl? You're cute, old man." The barmaid shook her head and got back to work.

When Remus turned back to his father, he counted out his earnings into two equal piles. After this, he pocketed half of it. The Lexington Noir Project, thanks to the anti-werewolf legislation drafted by Delores Umbridge, lost all its funding. Remus took a folded envelope out of his apron, straightened it out again, and stuffed the money inside. They exchanged small talk for a while until his second shift started. Lyall. curious, flipped the envelope over after draining his glass. There were three words on the envelope:

 **Lexington Noir Project**

,


End file.
